Nash (Marked Men #4)(33)

“Saint, stop. I would’ve just brought you home if you told me you were uncomfortable. Anyone might be in a room full of people that are emotional. And it was intense, because Rule and Shaw are intense. I would’ve understood, and no one could blame you for needing some space from it. Fuck, I was just happy you even agreed to go with me.”

She stopped what she was doing, which was pulling my shirt off my shoulders and pushing me back until my ass was resting on the back of the couch. When there was nowhere else for me to go, she put her hand flat on the center of my chest and looked up at me with those thundercloud-colored eyes.

“I know, and that’s what made me freak out.”

“I don’t understand.” I was trying to be coherent and reasonable, but my dick was starting to pay way closer attention to what she was doing than my brain was.

“I don’t know who you are, Nash.”

“I don’t really know who you are either, Saint, but if you gave this half a chance, we could change that.”

She shook her head and leaned into me so that we were pressed so tightly together there was no end to her and no beginning of me.

“I don’t know that you would like me once you got to know me, and the Nash I thought I knew …” She looked so lost all I wanted to do was give her a hug. “I hated him, but you … this Nash … all I do is want him.”

It was convoluted and confusing. I probably should have had something brilliant to say to her, some kind of thoughtful insight to put this all in perspective. I maybe should have been able to read into the subtle subtext of her words and her tone, but she quickly sealed her mouth over mine. Then she shoved her hand down the front of my pants, and I lost not only any will to object but also my balance, and we toppled over onto the other side of the couch. It was more than just a free fall onto the cushions … it was a free fall into one another.

Her hair was everywhere. She tasted like oranges and fire. Her hand had a solid grip on my rock-hard cock, and I felt her pause for a second when her palm slid over the head and encountered the different pieces of metal that lived there. I had a Prince Albert through the tip and a little tiny barbell that lived just under the curve of the head that they called a frenum piercing. Normally I warned anyone I was going to get naked with that the piercings were there, but she never gave me the chance and she didn’t seem like she had any intention of slowing the pace down.

The way we landed had her on top of me, her legs on either side of my waist. Her hands were all over me, the one inside my boxers making it impossible to have any kind of lucid thought. She was kissing my neck, returning to suck on my mouth, her hair felt like silken tentacles I was never going to escape from. Somehow even though there was limited movement allowed and space was minimal, she got my pants down around my hips and moved my boxers out of the way so that I was standing up erect and proud. Her hand looked super pale next to the hard, red flesh, and when she used the tip of one finger to touch the piercing that lived right under the tip, my eyes rolled back in my head and I hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. Holy shit, no simple touch had ever had me ready to come like hers did.

“Of course you would be pierced.” She sounded amused, and I didn’t know what to say to that, not when she bent down and ran her tongue over the flat of my nipple. I was practically pulsating her hand. She had me all turned around and lost. I was trying desperately to figure out what we were doing and where we were going and I wasn’t sure there was a map to show us how to get wherever it was she expected me to be at.

“Saintttt …” The word got garbled and lost when she lifted up off of me just enough so that she could wiggle around and get her black panties off under the hem of her little black dress. It struck me then that she was still fully clothed, even had her shoes on, and I was stripped and exposed while she did what she wanted, took what she needed from me.

Something about that didn’t sit right, and I wanted to tell her so, when she bent down, kissed me again, and asked against my mouth, “Condom?”

All right, I was a decent guy, had a pretty sturdy set of standards and morals, but when a girl was this hot, made my head this fuzzy, had my heart beating so hard I was sure she could hear it, and she pretty much demanded I have sex with her, who was I to argue? I lifted my hips up and that made her gasp because now there was nothing between us where she was straddling me and I saw her eyes go from that oh-so-lovely gray to a slate color that hovered close to black. I handed her my wallet, told her to fish one out, wrapped my hand in her wealth of hair, and pulled her down so that I could kiss her like I wanted to. I had to have some say in this after all, even if Saint calling the shots landed me under her, with all her damp heat pressed up close against me.

I kissed her with no lingering anger, no sadness, no desperation or bleakness hovering between us for the first time. I just wanted to savor her tangy flavor, revel in the way she rolled her tongue along mine, marvel at the way she sort of swore and whispered my name at the same time. This was how she should be kissed every time … by me and only me.

I felt her shift her weight and her hand that was sliding up and down my shaft, trying to kill me with gentle pressure and a delicate touch. I couldn’t see what she was doing because the skirt of her dress was in the way. Hell, I couldn’t even tell if she had freckles across those awesome br**sts, because as close as we were right now, she was very obviously still keeping firm mental and physical boundaries in place.